Turning The Tables
by xGlowingAngelx
Summary: Craig Dean returns to Hollyoaks harbouring a secret from his one true love. His determination at keep quiet is sucessful until a cruel twist of fate sees his past and his present life collide in a harsh way......
1. Chapter 1

1.

It's been 366 days since he'd been here. His eyes scanning the once familiar surroundings, he couldn't help but wonder if it was all just coincidence. He could remember clearly the events of that day; from waking up in the morning with a mixed puddle of excitement, fear, nerves and love to falling asleep that night feeling saddened and alone. And now he was stood in that same village feeling each of those emotions all over again.

He snapped from his reverie with a nudge from the man's voice and turned his body slightly to see the taxi driver looking up at him, his body leaning over the passenger seat to look out of the open window. 'Excuse me, mate? Do you plan on actually paying for this journey or are you going to stand there staring at nothing all day?'

Paying what little attention he could, he dug into the pocket of the jeans he was sporting and hurled a profitable amount of cash at the driver. 'Keep the change.' was all he said as he turned on his heels, hurled the suitcases up from the pavement behind him and headed towards the past he'd left behind.

--

It hadn't come as a shock to him that he ended up where he had. He knew it was wrong of him to turn up unannounced with no hint of a warning beforehand, but it wasn't like coming back here was something he'd planned on doing. Not yet anyway. Packing up his suitcase the day before had come as much a shock to himself. He'd moved around in a sea of uncertainty, not even sure of whether it was going to work. And it wasn't just the emotional, personal side. There was the practical side too. Flights at such late notice were surely impossible? And then there was the flat. He'd lived there for a year, with the same people and the same routines. He wondered how long it would be until they each returned home from their respective current destinations. How long it would be before they found his note held against the refrigerator door by a magnet. How long it would take them to figure it all out.

--

There was a chill in the air that collided against his skin at a brutal force and he hunched his shoulders up, wondering why it was so cold for September. He remembered what the weather had been like this time last year (and one day ago). It had been a sunny, hot day. The kind that made people want to kick their shoes off and walk on the hot pavement. The kind that made people want to call in sick from work/schools etc so they could lounge about in their gardens and enjoy the rays of sunshine that seemed to occur only once in a blue moon in Britain. The kind that spelled happiness and promises. It seemed some ironic twist that, by the time he'd arrived at his Dublin flat later that same day, the rain was pouring down and the sky had turned a horrible shade of black.

He'd expected to see some familiar face. One he was already acquainted with, that knew his name. Knew the events of his departure from the village. Knew him for the spineless, lying, cheat he was well aware he had been. But only one familiar soul graced the village. Il Gnosh - the restaurant ran by Tony - was closed, which seemed odd for the time of day. Drive'n'buy was abandoned bar a couple of people that were being served by Neville Ashworth. He quickly turned away, realising he'd been staring and fearing that Neville might spot him. It wasn't so much Neville knowing he was back that he feared. It was Neville telling Hannah, who'd probably end up spilling it to Sarah - or worse; John Paul. Having travelled all this way, with his legs now numb, his eyes fighting to stay open and his back aching from the flight, he wasn't going to let anybody be in with the chance of informing either of his former flames of his return. He'd cowardly avoided them before and he was sure he wasn't going to let it happen again. He was going to see both of them face to face. He was going to sort out every little issue with them. Determined that returning to the village would be nothing but a fresh start for all of them. No matter how hard the fight, he wasn't going to lose the battle. He'd wait all night outside their front doors if that was what it took. He'd refuse to leave until they listened to him. Until they gave him the chance to explain. The chance to at least try and undo some of the damage he'd left behind a year ago. The damage he knew was going to get worse before it got better.

--

He'd stalled at least 3 times before knocking on the door. It wasn't so much fear or worry - those were things he knew he didn't need right now - it was more the thought of stepping back into the home that held so many memories - both good and bad. The kitchen he'd make breakfast in in a pathetic attempt to show his romantic side. The sofa he'd spent many a time lay on feeling sorry for himself. The bedroom they'd spent many hours in; kissing, making love, lying in each others warm embrace, listening to only the sound of their own breathing as the nights would turn into mornings. But they were all just memories now. Bittersweet, treasured memories.

He was about to knock when the door flung open, one step ahead of him. 'CRAIG! YOU'RE BACK!' Frankie's voice was unmistakable and Craig couldn't help but smile at the obvious tone of happiness in her words. He gave her chance to embrace him into her arms, kiss his cheek more times than was probably necessary before holding him at arms length and looking him up and down, weighing up the obvious visible changes in him since they'd last seen one another. He knew exactly what she was going to say. He held his breath; one….two… three… 'Have you been eating properly?' she said, almost reading his thoughts. He rolled his eyes at her, pulling his suitcase along the floor. 'At least let me get through the door first Mum.' he said, walking past her. He could still feel her smile behind him, watching him. Sitting down on the sofa that was still warm from where presumably Frankie had been seated, he watched as she pulled his suitcase to the corner of the room - "out of the way" she had said - and began navigating around the kitchen once again to pour him what he guessed would be the first of many cups of teas.

--

Watching her wash the cups they'd drank from reminded him of what it had been like before he'd left; Frankie being the one doing the chores whilst he, Steph and Darren had sat idly watching television, all squashed together on the sofa, but neither making an attempt to move.

He took a fresh steaming cup of tea from her and set it on the coffee table just before them. He felt the sofa beside him dip as Frankie sat down. She took his hand in her own and he realised she was shaking, although he wasn't sure why. It wasn't like she had anything to be scared of, surely? If something was going on here, she'd have contacted him earlier and made him aware of it, wouldn't she?

'Craig, love, what's going on?' he looked back at her and realised it had been his own hands that had been shaking, rather than those of his mother. His heart was pounding in his ears and he was sure Frankie had secretly turned the central heating up to the top, because sweat was pouring from him in large amounts.

'Has something happened?' he heard her ask. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound seemed to come out. He could feel her gaze tightening on him, pleading silently with him to talk to her. But every time he tried to tell her, he would stop, realising how ridiculous it sounded. He feared her reaction. Would she be happy? Disappointed? Angry? He couldn't tell from just the look on her face like he usually could, and that terrified him more than anything.

He took a sip of the tea she'd made him, flinching as it burnt his lips whilst wishing it could have been something stronger. Something that would allow him to lose himself and make what he had to say easier for her to hear and for him to say.

'Something happened' he began. 'Whilst I was in Dublin.'

She shook her head in uncertainty at him. _He's speaking in riddles._ 'What happened?' she asked, her voice sounding more pushy than she intended to. She could tell that whatever he had to say was difficult for him to put into words and a sinking feeling engulfed her as a hundred possibilities raced through her mind; he was dying; He's made an enemy of someone that was out for revenge; he was in yet another dreadful relationship with someone she would highly disapprove of.

'Craig, love, whatever it is, you can tell me.' she pressed, trying to hold back at screaming at him to just tell her what the hell was going on.

He took a deep breath and for a moment, she felt her heart sink. He turned his body so that it was facing her and cupped her hands into his own. 'I don't know how to tell you Mum. I know that you're going to be disappointed in me, but I can only hope you try and understand that none of this is easy for me either. None of it makes any sense to me.'

She nodded her head in understanding at him, praying the nauseating feeling she had in her stomach would pass when he said whatever he had to say.

'I went out one night in Dublin. It was a few months ago. I'd been sat at home feeling so…… lost. For some reason I kept thinking about home. About you guys, about everything that had happened. About Sarah. About…..' he trailed off and she knew exactly who he meant. She wondered when exactly he'd stopped being able to say that name.

'Anyway,' he continued 'I heard some guys from my course going on about a party that was happening and I decided to go. I though going out and forgetting about everything would suddenly erase the past and tell me what to do with my future.

I'd been there about an hour and this girl came on to me. She was gorgeous. Rhiannon she was called. Blonde, gorgeous blue eyes, a chest the size of….

'Yes, Craig, I get it' Frankie interrupted - her own way of letting Craig know she didn't need or want the rest of those details. He smiled weakly. 'Sorry. Anyway, about a month or so later, after we'd…. you know, she invited me over to her place. I thought my luck was in again and I couldn't believe it. So I went round, and that was when she told me' he seemed to pause after that and, although she had an inkling about what he was going to say, Frankie urged him to continue.

He looked at her, running a hand through his hair like he'd suddenly realised he was in too deep. 'Mum, I'm going to be a Dad.' he said. That was when he dropped the cup he'd been holding.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

He felt drained by the time he'd finished telling Frankie the whole story. He'd been careful not to leave any stone unturned, knowing that it would cause even more trouble if she found out from someone else down the line. She'd sat, listening, beside him, reaching for him every so often and cupping his hands in her own - her way of letting him know she was listening to every word. He was sure he'd stopped breathing at some point, knowing that confiding in your Mum about forging a relationship with some girl to take your mind of your ex was embarrassing enough for him to admit, let alone her to hear.

He felt comforted in an uncomfortable way she reached her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into yet another embrace, allowing his tears to soak into the jumper she was wearing and dissolve into a part of her that would forever remain a scar just like it would for him.

She brushed a hand through his hair and kissed his cheek just as she would when he was younger and he'd fall off his bike or burst into a fit of tears when something didn't go his way. His face looked up towards her and she could honestly say it was the first time she ever noticed the true colour of them. They were a chocolate brown just a touch darker shade than her own and they blended perfectly against his complexion and his brunette hair which he'd inherited from his father. It wasn't the only similarity the two men would ever come to have.

--

'You're going to have to see them eventually' she said, sitting beside him on his freshly made bed. He stared blankly at the bedroom wall before him and, for a minute, Frankie was sure he wasn't even listening to her. 'Cra-'

'I know' he interrupted, his eyes remaining firmly on the same spot of the wall. His hands were knitting together nervously in his lap and Frankie resisted the urge to stop them with her own. He shocked her slightly as he turned to look at her for the first time in minutes. 'How do I do it, Mum?' he spoke, his voice pleading with her to give him the answers he so desperately craved.

She smiled sympathetically at him. 'You be completely honest with them. _Both of them. _It's not going to be easy - I imagine neither of them are going to be too pleased to see you - and they're both going to be just as confused, but if you don't tell them, you're going to be left asking yourself why. Wondering if you should have done things differently.'

She noticed him shuffle slightly and his muttered something she could just about make out under his breath. 'I already know the answer to that one.' he said, and she could only wish for the pain to leave him eventually.

--

Sleeping on the sofa that night was highly unsettling and Craig found himself tossing and turning numerous times even once he was finally comfortable. He thought of his own, comfortable bed that was only a few feet away in the room he's once called his own. He'd wanted nothing more than to go back in there, lock the door and climb under the covers with his memories, but despite Frankie's insistence, he couldn't bring himself to kick Newt out of it. He didn't know the kid very well, but he understood that this was the first place he'd classed as a proper home and the thought of messing that up - even for only a short period of time - was something Craig had felt guilty about already. So he was now lay under a spare duvet, with his feet peering out of the bottom, unable to sleep no matter how hard he tried.

He reached for his mobile phone that lay on the floor beside the sofa and navigated his way into his phonebook. It wasn't on purpose that he'd stopped scrolling just as he'd reached that name, it just seemed like the natural thing to do. His thumb hovered about the dial button before he decided against pushing it. He knew that it was a ridiculous time to be calling someone - least of all an ex you hadn't seen for a year. And chances were John Paul wasn't going to be too thrilled either. Either Craig would be speaking to him for the first time in ages as he stood in a room full of people and music that was too loud for him to hear anything he had to say - or he'd be tucked up under his duvet half asleep where Craig would call him for the first time in ages and John Paul wouldn't _want_ to hear anything he had to say. Both options meant Craig would have to deal with something that - right at this moment in time - he was too tired to deal with.

--

There was an unusual mark on the ceiling. That was the first thing other than _them_ that Craig had thought since he'd arrived home. It was an unusual brown colour that resembled something Craig was far too mature to compare it with. He wondered whether Frankie, Jack, Darren or Steph had tried sorting it. He wondered whether they even knew it was there, or whether it was just another occurrence happening under their noses that they'd all failed to spot. Craig pulled the duvet around his shoulders, making a mental note to mention it to Jack tomorrow, and allowed sleep to wash over him, knowing that by the time tomorrow came around, he'd forget the mark even existed.

--

Breakfast the following morning had proved an awkward affair for all involved. Frankie fussed over Craig like it had been much longer than a year since they'd last seen one another. Steph had treated him just as she had done before he left, which meant arguing with him over who got the last of the milk on their cereal and the fact _she_ needed to use the shower before he did. Jack had asked him how his course was going and how long he was planning to stay - something Craig couldn't find and answer too. As for Darren, he'd mumbled a hung over 'welcome home' to his step brother as he stumbled in through the front door wearing what smelt like clothes he'd worn for much longer than just the morning.

'It's a shame you couldn't see Newt before he left for school.' Frankie spoke, breaking the tense silence in what seemed like the most obvious way. 'He's been dying to meet you.'

'No he hasn't.' Steph quipped in her usual manner. Frankie threw her a look of warning, which Steph seemed to ignore as she left the table and disappeared back into her bedroom to prepare for what was no doubt going to be another hectic day at _MOBS. _

'You feeling OK, love?' Frankie asked, gesturing towards Craig's plate that sat before him on the table carrying food that he was showing no signs of eating. He put his fork - that he'd been using only to awkwardly shuffle a slice of bacon around - on the plate and carried it to the sink. 'I'm fine.' he replied, all the while rubbing the back of his neck - a sure sign that he was far from fine.

A dreaded feeling washed over her once again as she watched him scuffle with the jacket that draped across the back of the sofa and pull it over his shoulders, zipping it up to beneath his chin.

He noticed the colour of her eyes darken. 'Craig, where are you going?' her voice doing the pleading for her.

'Out' he replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Normally she'd clip him round the ear hole for such a sarcastic reply, but her determination stopped her this time.

He turned his back and headed towards the door that would lead him from the pub. 'Out where?' he heard her call after him as he disappeared further from her view. He purposely ignored her this time. They both knew the answer to that question.


End file.
